Angel Watching Over Me
by Jarlyfan626
Summary: Set early season 4. Dean is having trouble adjusting to life post Hell and calls on the only one that can help in a moment of vulnerability. Sick!Dean. Non slash.


**Authors note: I do not own anyone/anything associated with Supernatural. This is my first SPN fanfic. It's written for my awesome sister-in-law's birthday who is a big Cas fan. This is not intended as a Destiel slash fic, but if you choose to read it as such I won't be offended. Please enjoy!**

* * *

"_Hey Sammy."_ The familiar voice greeted him through his cell. _"How's the reunion going?"_

"It's Sam." Sam replied in habit.

_"Ah huh. So, are you still on team 'kill Lilith' or did you leap off that train once big brother made his miraculous recovery?"_ Ruby questioned him.

Sam's vision flashed to the sight of Dean being ripped apart by hellhounds with Lilith standing over his fallen body cackling in delight. "Trust me; I want nothing more than to see that bitches head displayed a silver platter. It's just… it's… what we're doing… he wouldn't understand."

_"Then don't tell him. Slip away while he's sleeping. You can be back before he even notices you're gone." _

"It's not that easy." Sam responded. Dean's sleeping habits had never been what one would call normal, but since his return he was lucky to get more than an hour at a time. He swore he couldn't remember a thing from his tenure in hell, but the whiskey that held occupancy by his bedside seemed to contradict that claim.

_"What's wrong? Post traumatic hell getting the better of him? Does big brother need his hand held?" _She taunted. _"It's been a month. You're losing steam and you know it. Keep this up and you're going to be useless when she resurfaces."_

"Where?" Sam finally conceded.

_"I found a warehouse about 30 miles out from you. Meet me in an hour. I'll text you the coordinates." _She stated before disconnecting the call.

Sam walked down to the soda machine to grab his excuse for walking outside, returning to find Dean passed out on the loveseat in front of the television that was left on. _'That can't be comfortable.'_ He thought to himself. He was about to turn off the episode of Dr. Sexy when Dean started hacking.

"Dean?" He called out in concern coming to his brother's side when it appeared the fit wasn't letting up. Beads of sweat sat on his brother's brow line; he was inches away from checking for heat with the back of his hand when Dean woke up and flinched before swatting the intrusive limb away. Sam couldn't help but worry, Dean **never** flinched. "Hey, it's just me."

"You tryin' to get fresh with me?" Dean asked with a grated voice. "Sorry bro, but no matter how much you pray for it I still don't swing that way."

"You're such a… jerk." Sam smirked.

"Bitch." Dean smiled back before letting his eyelids fall attempting to recede the pounding in his head.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked for what seemed to be the millionth time since getting him back.

"Yeah." He responded by instinct. "'though, I think I discovered the drawback of the brand spanking new baby fresh body."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Shotty immune system." Dean coughed.

"Well, you're not exactly helping the situation with a steady diet of hops and whiskey."

"Liquid bread, man." Dean defended his choices as he shivered.

"Okay, that's it. We need to get you into a real bed." Again Dean reacted to Sam's hands impeding into his personal space.

"I got it." Dean assured him getting as far a sitting up before being hit with a dizzy spell.

"Dean…"

"'m fine."

"No, you're not! I can tell just by looking at you that you have a fever, and I swear to God we've haunted ghosts that have more color than you do."

"Flu season, I'll live." Dean replied.

"It's more than that." Sam responded. "Since… you know… you've…"

"Since hell?" Dean confronted the point.

"Are you sure you don't remember any of it? I mean, even subconsciously, Dean, something has to be up. You're not sleeping or eating or… honestly, I'm surprised it took this long before your body gave out on you. "

"Sam, how many times do I have to tell you? I. Remember. Nothing."

"Until I believe it. Or until you can explain why you flinch every time I touch you…"

"'Cause I don't swing…"

"Dean, seriously. Or the cold sweats in the middle of the night. Or the fact that you have to keep the window cracked open in the Impala."

"I like the fresh air." Dean explained knowing that he had to give the kid something. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I really want to know."

"If I tell you can you promise not to go all emo Sammy and blame yourself?"

"Dean, just…"

"I had to crawl out of my own coffin. I woke up in a box with practically no oxygen and the memory of getting torn apart by hellhounds as the only explanation of what I was doing there. Look, it's going to take some time to adjust, but I swear I'm fine." Dean said looking into the puppy dog eyes hoping to satisfy the concern.

"Okay." Sam accepted the answer. It seemed to work until he broke down into another coughing fit.

"Bed." Sam demanded pointing in that direction. Dean stumbled over as Sam dug out the Tylenol bringing that and a glass of water over to his bedside. "Take 'em. It should help with the fever."

Dean complied without complaint willing to do anything to rid himself of the headache and sore throat plaguing him. "Where are you going?" He asked watching his brother throw on his coat.

"We're um… we're running low on funds. I thought I'd hit up some of the local bars and see what I could bring in."

"Oh." Dean sounded a bit defeated.

"Dean, if this is bad enough that you need me to stay…"

"No. No, I'm… I'm just gonna try sleeping it off." He rubbed his temple.

"Okay, take it easy and call me if you need anything."

"Kay." Dean mumbled. Sam swore he heard to words 'mother hen' escape his brother's mouth before closing the door behind him.

* * *

_He pressed his eyes together not wanting to believe he was back. His entire body ached as he was strung up on the rack held above a fiery pit by hooks embedded into his flesh. His sense of smell was overloaded by burnt meat as flames roared from below. He heard chuckling before opening his eyes to be greeted with black eyes and a familiar eerie grin _

_'Back for some more?' The demon sneered. 'I thought we moved past this.'_

_ "No!" Dean shook his head willing himself back topside. He knew it was a dream, it had to be. He was saved from an angel of the Lord and back in the world of the living with his brother. "This isn't real."_

_ 'Not looking so hot there, Winchester. Need something tangible to hang onto?' He heard as a spear rod was thrust into his abdomen. _

Dean shot up from his bed screaming. He brought a hand up to his mouth before scrambling to the bathroom, lifting the toilet lid just in time to bring up the measly remnants of dinner. He continued to cough and gag as his stomach clenched over and over again panting for breath and willing for the torture to cease. After what felt like hours Dean pulled himself over to his cell phone that had fallen out of his pocket outside the bathroom door and pressed the first contact on his speed dial.

_"This is Sam, you know what to do."_ He heard the brief message over the receiver. Dean hung up without leaving a voicemail as another bout of nausea hit forcing him to swallow convulsively while he inched back in front of the porcelain goddess.

"God, Castiel, can you hear me?" Dean pleaded as tears distorted his vision. He leaned over clutching the lid bringing up nothing but acid.

"I can hear you." Dean heard; he looked up to see the trench coated Angel standing before him. "You're unwell."

Dean hiccupped. "D'you make a habit outta stating the obvious? Instead of just standing there, think you could use your angel mojo and bring me up to fighting speed?"

"I can't." Castiel answered.

"You can't?" The hunter gasped. "You can 'raise me from perdition'," he said with his best Castiel impersonation, "but you can't cure a damn stomach bug?"

"Perhaps I should clarify. I physically can, but I am not allowed."

"Awesome." Dean stated sarcastically. "Let the poor monkey's suffer, heaven's new creed?"

"I don't understand…" Castiel replied. "I want to help. You're body temperature is much higher than the average human's."

"It's called a fever." Dean explained resting his back against the bathtub. "You really want to help? Help me into bed and then take one of those rags, soak it with lukewarm water."

Castiel did as the young hunter instructed and washed down Dean's face, neck, and chest with the rag. Dean tried not to enjoy the feeling, but the repeated pattern and gentle touch lulled his eyes closed as his breathing evened out. Feeling that he had done all he could to bring the boy comfort Castiel stopped the pattern.

"Don't go." Dean reacted.

"I wasn't… Dean, where's your brother?"

"Went out." He answered. "Don't 'member. He um… Don't feel good."

"Are you going to vomit?"

Dean nodded and pointed at the trash can. Castiel brought it over in time for Dean to splutter into to bin a few times before bonelessly dropping back into the pillows. "Make it stop." Dean begged. "All of it, just… just make it go away."

"All of what?" Castiel asked confused.

"Hell." He responded back, glazed over green eyes pleading with the angel.

"Dean, you're out. You're safe."

Dean shook his head no. "Don't wanna go back."

"You're not." Castiel assured him again bringing the cloth up to his brow feeling the fever relentlessly attacking the hunter as he appeared to be reaching delirium. "You've honored your contract, Dean. You're not going back. Just rest."

"No." He resisted against his body's desire for sleep like a petulant child. "Can't go back."

"Okay." Castiel humored him. "Dean, I'm going to help, but I need you to relax."

"Kay." He sounded all of six-years-old.

Castiel placed a hand on the hunters' head allowing him access to the young man's mind. He saw brief glimpses of the boy's life starting in infancy with Mary Winchester holding her newborn close to her chest humming her favorite Beatles song. The next image was a worn out toddler being tucked into bed with a lullaby and assurances of angel's watching over him. Castiel saw the fire through the eyes of the four-year-old, and felt the pain as all belief in God and angels was stolen from the child. He watched Dean go from a boy to soldier practically overnight, and his heart warmed as he watched the bond between brothers grow in what culminated in the ultimate act of sacrifice and love. The angel could feel the flames of hell and for a brief moment felt the pain of torture that Dean had endured for over 30 years before pulling out of the hunter's conscious.

Years later Castiel would claim a profound bound with the hunter that he could attribute to that very moment as he wanted nothing more but to take away all the pain and heartbreak the kid had experienced in his brief existence. What he could do, though, was help him sleep more soundly by transporting him from hell to the only place the hunter truly felt at home. Castiel flooded him with memories in and around the Impala with those whom he considered family. A silent promise was made to honor Mary's wishes and watch over the boy as he slid into a deeper sleep than he had since returning from perdition.

Seconds later Castiel was startled by the door opening.

"Cas?" Sam questioned noticing the stench of illness as he entered the motel. "How's he doing?"

"He'll be okay." Castiel promised before disappearing from the room, and for the first time since Dean came back Sam actually believed that.


End file.
